


Redglare: Investigate

by sunbreaksdown



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, F/F, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:43:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbreaksdown/pseuds/sunbreaksdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two legislacerators, a pair of pirates, a private block, and a whole lot of alcohol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redglare: Investigate

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops.

     When it comes to business, there are certain matters of digression undertaken within the courtblock, officially known only as _investigations_. 

     Even the most dedicated to the law have to find roundabout ways of getting things done. There are some shards of information that find themselves in the grasp of only the most treacherous, and knowledge isn't the sort of thing that can be pried from their cold, dead hands. In situations like these, deals have to be made. Nothing _illegal_ , of course, and nothing too generous. Something to entertain these criminals that still roam free. Something novel, usually. A promise that the law will stop hounding them for another perigee – two, if it's really good information – thus postponing their trip to the gallows. 

     A temporary truce, of sorts.

     One such truce leads two legislacerators to a grimy little tavern late one morning. The sun is only a handful of hours behind them, and they enter through the back door, so not as to draw unwanted attention to themselves, meeting their informants in a private block. A single barmaid comes and goes, and she's been paid to keep her lips sealed on the nature of the meeting; or more specifically, to keep their identities to herself.

     Three hours later, Redglare knows no more than she did upon arriving, and is very, _very_ displeased with how things are unfolding.

     Redglare's on her second ale, while Mindfang's halfway into her eight serving of whatever it is she's drinking by the bottle. It changes with every round, but right now it smells clear red against the black of her lips, with a hint of something warm. It's fruity, maybe, but more than that, it's so potent that Redglare's certain that just breathing it in is intoxicating. Whatever happens, no matter how badly things go, she has to keep her senses sharp, has to remain focused, because her apprentice has clearly taken leave of her own.

     Even if Redglare couldn't smell the shape of figures taking form against and around one another, there'd be no way she could miss the Marquise's constant bragging. There she sits in all her repugnant splendour, happily resting with her back against the wall, a descendant perched on each thigh. Only _one_ of which belongs to her, Redglare notes with a disapproving click of her tongue, jaw set, arms folded across her chest. Whenever Redglare speaks up in order to try obtaining the information they came for, Mindfang goes on at great length about how _lovely_ it is to finally meet an agreeable troll from the courtblock.

     But naturally, Redglare can't blame Terezi for her frankly embarrassing behaviour. Not only is Mindfang, in fact, Mindfang, but she's also plied her with all kinds of alcohol. And then there's the matter of Vriska Serket, another Mindfang in the making. Redglare may feign ignorance on the matter, but she's well aware of the constant quadrant flipping going on between the two the descendants, red one moment, black the next. Always back to red, though. Case in point being this abysmal investigation, during which Redglare has heard the sound of what she can only assume to be drunken kissing at least eight times. And directly over Mindfang, at that. She sneers, trying not to think too much of it, assuring herself that this memory will be easily assuaged as soon as Terezi sobers up and comes to her senses.

     She had thought that Terezi's ridiculous scarlet affections for Vriska had been all but squandered, upon taking her arm from her half a sweep ago, but apparently, the girl is far too willing to forgive and forget. At least when alcohol is involved, and when Mindfang is being so very encouraging. Redglare sighs, thinking it a terrible waste. Had Vriska not found her way into her ancestor's grip, then there could very well be a glimmer of hope in the girl's future. But as things have come to pass, under the mercy of the open sea, Redglare can't imagine an end for the girl any less justified than Mindfang's will be.

     “—correct once again,” Mindfang says, head lolled towards Terezi's ear, and Redglare's attention momentarily wavers back into the conversation. Mindfang's boasting again; certainly nothing worth taking notes on. “In fact, I would recommend asking your revered mentor for more clarification on the matter.”

     Terezi laughs, delighted, teeth snapping together. Her laughter is as uncontrolled as ever, but there's a certain amount of dissociation in her voice, like the noise won't immediately register to her as having come from her own lips. Appallingly drunk, in other words. Redglare lifts her own glass, taking a slow, measured sip. Not to appreciate the taste of it, but to show that she has absolutely no interest in speaking about anything that doesn't pertain entirely to business. 

     “Did you rea—” Terezi begins, voice aimed Redglare's way, but the rest of the sentence blurs into an _mmmph_ when Vriska has her mouth on hers again. Redglare's going to have such a headache tomorrow, and it will have more to do with her constant teeth-grinding than anything resembling a hangover. She rests an elbow against the table, and her chin against her fist, sighing. This absurd alcohol-fuelled kissing business had been utterly outrageous when it first occurred, but now, Redglare's nothing short of bored by it.

     Mindfang's initial reaction has done nothing to lessen, which does little to surprise Redglare. She hears the sound of Mindfang's hand press to the side of Vriska's waist, and then another to Terezi's, letting out a pleased hum from the back of her throat. Disgusting. Despicable. If Redglare didn't need this information so sorely then she would've made herself scarce by now, even if she had to drag Terezi out by the scruff of her collar. 

     The kissing stops, eventually, signified by more subdued laughter from Terezi. Mindfang sounds disappointed but endeared, and then goes back to putting more terrible thoughts in Terezi's head, voice muffled when she presses her lips to her— Redglare doesn't even want to think about it. Probably her throat. Redglare drums her fingers against the edge of the table, wanting to draw Mindfang's attention away from Terezi, but not necessarily wanting it on herself. 

     There's a brief silence, and silence is always troubling, when Terezi is involved. But then Vriska slurs _something_ , makes some pathetic grasp for attention, tugging Mindfang's sleeve, and she momentarily forgets all about Terezi.

     “Yes, yes,” Mindfang says, as if her patience is never ending. There's more movement, more clothing rustling; she's probably placing her arms around the both of them. “Why don't the two of you fetch us another round of drinks?”

     “But the barmaid will be back in a minute,” Vriska grumbles in reply, not in need of so much as another drop of alcohol. 

     “Even still, Vriska,” Mindfang says slowly, so that Vriska realises it isn't a mere suggestion, “I think you ought stretch your legs.”

     Mumbling something about it being a good idea, Vriska manages to find her feet, and gets a hold of Terezi's wrist after a few fruitless grasps. The two of them practically stumble out of the block, unsteadiness due in part to Vriska's incessant need to try keeping up with Mindfang, and Terezi's compulsion to get a taste of _everything_ in her immediate vicinity. Redglare groans as they leave the block, head in her hands, well aware of what's going to happen next. Well aware that it's perfectly possible for the situation to get worse.

     The moment the door closes behind Vriska and Terezi, Mindfang is on her feet, making a direct line for the empty spot on the bench next to Redglare. She doesn't even sway as she walks, in spite of how much she's imbibed thus far. The woman must be at least a little drunk at all times in order to have built up such a resistance. As Mindfang makes herself comfortable next to her, which mostly consists of being far too close for anyone else's liking, Redglare reluctantly admits to herself that this might be for the best. At least this way Terezi isn't at her mercy, and if she obliges Mindfang in some small way, she might finally loosen her tongue on the matter at hand.

     If it's for the greater good, and if it's going to help uphold justice, then Redglare can sacrifice her personal comfort and go through with this.

     “We don't have long,” Mindfang murmurs right into her ear, warm breath tinged with a hint of every drop she's drank, scents mixing together, creating a blistering array of flares to light up in the back of Redglare's mind. “Our dear descendants will find their way back here sooner or later, alcohol intolerance not withstanding.”

     Mindfang isn't simply suggesting that they don't waste time. She's actively pushing the situation forward, one hand splayed against Redglare's thigh, just above the knee. Sneering, Redglare takes a firm hold of Mindfang's jaw, and digs her nails in before she pushes her back, which does nothing to deter her. 

     “Oh? You'd rather an audience, would you?” Mindfang asks, tilting her head, biting on the tips of Redglare's fingers. “As I said: their reappearances are imminent. If you could just try practising restraint for a moment more...” 

     And who is Mindfang to speak of restraint? Redglare would very much like the answer to such a question, in the same way that she'd like to be the better person and not rise to her obvious attempt to rile her up. But for once, Redglare will not allow Mindfang the luxury of time to prepare, to stroke her own ego, and decides that she will be done with the usual control she clings to. She presses the tip of her tongue to her upper lip, knowing that she's had less than two pints; the alcohol can't be blamed for this. She moves a hand to the back of Mindfang's head, pulls on her hair, and has her pressed into a kiss before she's had a chance to get over her own smug sense of self-satisfaction. 

     But still, it's difficult to catch Mindfang off-guard in these matters. She has the advantage of her hand already being against Redglare's thigh, and then it's only a matter of moving it upwards. Redglare growls into the kiss, not sure if she's warning her not to go any further or not to back down, closes her eyes to keep up appearances, and reflects on the way she can smell blue blood beneath grey skin. The way she can place both hands to Mindfang's cheeks, nails scraping just beneath her eyes, causing the Marquise to _shudder_. Mindfang knows not to take anything Redglare does as an empty threat, because it's only the information in her think pan that's keeping Redglare for tearing her face into a hundred shreds. 

     Her whole body is tense as she works her way into the kiss, as she fights back the urge to finish things there and then, mind racing as she keeps her own wants and needs at bay. It gets her heart pounding, if nothing else. 

     And just when Redglare gets Mindfang's lower lip between her teeth and is toying with the idea of puncturing it, the door swings open, slamming into the wall with enough of a crash to almost make that decision for her. Mindfang is in no rush to pull away, makes no effort to cover up what was in the process of going on, and sits up straight, not moving from Redglare's side.

     Wonderful.

     The door is closed with slightly more care than it was opened, and Vriska and Terezi are too busy discussing something or another to care what the rest of the party may or may not have been up to. The table rattles under the weight of four more bottles of what's certain to taste like paint stripper, and then Vriska's grumbling and whining under her breath again, prompting Mindfang to pull her into her lap. What unfolds next is one of the more unfortunate things Redglare's ever had the pleasure of listening to, and mostly involves a very eager descent desperate to prove something, and an accommodating ancestor in no rush to try out any of the new drinks that have been brought back. 

     Redglare clears her throat, loudly. Terezi sprawls out across the bench, and by association, her lap, knees bent, feet kicking the air. Placing a hand against the small of Terezi's back, Redglare takes a moment to consider whether or not she wants to push her off, but ultimately decides that she needs her in one piece. Not for the sake of this investigation, because the fact that there's no strength in numbers here has already been illustrated well enough, but because someone is going to have to document this failed outing while she dictates. 

     “This is _not_ how matters were supposed to proceed,” Redglare snaps. Mindfang and Vriska pay her no need, continue exploiting one another's mouths, and Terezi giggles at absolutely nothing, nose pressed to the lace of Mindfang's skirt. “I want the information, Marquise. I would hate to think this was all some stalling tactic, and that you never knew anything to begin with. I want the information, and I want it _now_.”

     Mindfang laughs into Vriska's mouth, and after a deliberately noisy pause, finds it within herself to take the briefest of breaks from the kiss.

     “What's the matter?” Mindfang asks as Vriska continues to press her mouth to the corner of Mindfang's, “Jealous, darling?”

     It's Redglare's turn to laugh. As soon as she does, she wishes that she hadn't given Mindfang the pleasure of hearing the sound, but can't very well take it back now. She sets her jaw, intent, at first, on not answering, and busies herself with reaching down to bundle her fingers in Terezi's hair, pulling her head back as she begins nuzzling Mindfang's skirt up. Terezi protests as Redglare tugs her upright, but is a little too disorientated to be able to struggle out of her grip. With Terezi sat at her side, she leans back towards Mindfang, supposing that her eyes are now closed.

     She's close enough to be able to lick Mindfang's ear, should so she chose, but instead she simply hums, unimpressed. Honestly, what is there to be jealous of? She has always known how Mindfang operates, and is genuinely surprised by the lack of courtesans in their immediate vicinity. 

     “Jealous?” Redglare laughs again, to show that the first bout wasn't a mistake. “And what quadrant, exactly, would you say this is?”

     Again, Mindfang breaks off the kiss, and with a murmuring of _My neck if you please, darling_ , finds a new way to distract Vriska. Head now free to turn, she looks towards Redglare, and lets her know by way of pressing the tips of their noses together. Redglare doesn't dare back away, but more than that, doesn't consider it. Mindfang is nothing to be scared of, and it's hardly as if this is her first time finding herself in such a position. One of Mindfang's arms wraps around her waist, but Redglare knows she isn't the intended target; Terezi's arms loop around her, and she feels her against her back, knowing that Mindfang must've reached out to her.

     “Why do we need to define things so? This is a unique situation,” Mindfang says, and Redglare feels Terezi squeeze at her waist. “—well. _Almost_ unique. Let's not clutter matters with quadrants.” 

     “Let's not,” Redglare says, not sounding particularly agreeable in spite of either that, or the way she moves to kiss her. One of Vriska's horns scrape against her cheek in the process, and Redglare grunts, pushing her to the side. 

     As they kiss, Redglare twists her body, one arm stretching out to the side, trying to break off Mindfang's hold on Terezi. It does the trick; Mindfang realises that her arms are put to better use around Vriska and Redglare both, and Redglare does her best to ignore the way she's pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Vriska as a result. That doesn't necessarily mean that she can't nudge her in the side with her elbow, though. If she is to succumb to her kismesis's wants for the sake of information, of justice (and not her own needs, no, certainly not), then she should at least be granted privacy in order to lessen her humiliation. 

     She's going to become outrageously drunk, just from kissing Mindfang. Usually, Redglare spends most of these opening kisses thinking about how she's going to kill Mindfang, or at least cripple her, in order to drag her back to the courtblock, but now, she dispenses with all such formalities. She isn't going to kill Mindfang. She isn't going to take her one remaining eye with her teeth. She's just going to kiss her, keep kissing her, and then likely more, because she can no longer keep up the façade of being able to control herself. 

     Redglare may hate Mindfang for it, but she hates herself more.

     Next to her, Terezi becomes restless. Redglare feels her begin to fidget, and doesn't have any doubt that she's reaching out for Vriska. Which again can only be deemed to be Redglare's fault, having set such an abhorrent example for her has she has. Shuffling, hands still grasping Mindfang's shoulders, she tries to move enough to let Terezi get around her, but it's all to no avail. Mindfang pricks her fangs against Redglare's lower lip, clears her throat, and then leans against the back of the bench. Redglare furrows her brow, and Mindfang keeps one hand against her cheek, idly toying with the tips of her hair.

     “Girls, please,” Mindfang says, voice completely even, as if Redglare wasn't licking at the back of her teeth mere moments ago, “We've business to attend to. If you could give us a moment's reprieve.” 

     Vriska exhales shakily, one hand raking through her hair as she leans back, reaching out to take hold of Terezi's wrist.

     “Yeah, sure. We'll go—” she pauses. Redglare can practically hear how heavily she's blinking, “We could get a block, I guess?” 

     Terezi, apparently fond of that plan, lets Vriska tug her to her feet, but doesn't get far. They don't get much further than facing then door, because Mindfang's leaning out, making sure the two of them can't get away. Redglare does her best to stop her shoulders from rising, and leans back against the wall behind her, now that she's free of Mindfang's hold.

     “There's no need to go _too_ far,” Mindfang says with a smirk, pulling the two of them back into her lap. There's an abundance of blueberry in the air, where Vriska is almost pressed against Redglare again, and she splays one hand out against the small of her back, lest she tumble off Mindfang's lap, back onto her. “We may need you back here at any given moment. Why not keep yourselves busy, hm?”

     Redglare's disappointed that it takes her a split second longer than it should to realise what Mindfang's getting at. Apparently, even Terezi and Vriska manage to clue in before she does, because the both of them are eager to rearrange themselves, and _no_ , there's no way that Mindfang can expect to get away with this. Having her way with Redglare is one thing, but dragging their descendants into matters is another entirely. Not that they aren't already wrapped up in this, as Mindfang and Vriska have proven time and time again already, but there are some lines that shouldn't be crossed. Mostly, these lines are drawn at the point that stops Vriska from clambering onto Redglare's lap, arms around her shoulders.

     Vriska's thighs clamp around Redglare's own, and Redglare leans forward, hissing into her ear, asking her what, exactly, she thinks she's doing. As drunk as Vriska had seemed to be minutes before, there's a startling amount of clarity in her voice and confidence in her actions as she presses her forehead to Redglare's, and tells her not to worry; she hates her, but she doesn't hate her _that_ much. She's not going to try replacing Mindfang. 

     For the first time since arriving, Redglare makes no effort to push Vriska away. From the sounds of things, Terezi is already getting comfortable enough with Mindfang, and yet again, that has to be Redglare's fault. Without being able to help herself, she's spoken volumes on how she detests the woman so, and Terezi can hardly be blamed for succumbing to curiosity. The girl's blindness is still a novelty to her, and a moment spent not exploring new textures and tastes is a moment wasted. Not understanding how any of this will help them attend to business, Redglare refuses to press her lips to Vriska's, but allows her to entertain herself by way of exploring her neck.

     Before speaking up, Redglare gives herself a moment to regulate her breathing, because Vriska is enthusiastic enough to not hold anything back. She's already given up on mapping a path across Redglare's throat, and has since moved on to her collarbone, hands at her hips. Redglare lifts one hand, supposing that Vriska's earned it, and presses it to the back of her head, in what's more permission for Vriska to continue her excursion than an admittance of defeat. 

     “Answers, Marquise,” Redglare says, attempting to keep her voice level. Mindfang, apparently not being held back by Terezi in the least, leans forward for another kiss, sighing softly into Redglare's mouth. Redglare only scowls, disappointed that Terezi hasn't even attempted to hold herself back, to take her time with her tongue. It's wise to never be too willing to relent to the Marquise's wants and needs, lest she delude herself into thinking that this is going to be a repeat performance. “Now, before you—”

     _Begin moaning like a whore_ , she means to say, and only grumbles in place of the insult. Mindfang catches her meaning well enough, and Redglare's fingers tighten in Vriska's hair as she does nothing to protest the kiss. It's impossible not to cave with Mindfang's lips curled into a smirk against her own, and Vriska's hands gripping her thighs, prying them apart. 

     “You're eager,” Mindfang notes, and Redglare choose to believes that she speaks with regards to the information. Letting out an almost inaudible _ah_ , Mindfang sinks in her seat an inch or two, and while Redglare does her best not to imagine what's going on between Mindfang and Terezi, there's a shift of fabric that must be Mindfang's legs spreading, and she can _hear_ the wet sounds of Terezi's mouth against her. “Dedicated, even. To think, someone of your standing would go to such lengths to obtain a few meagre clues. This isn't legal, is it? It can't be.”

     Technically not, Redglare thinks, scolding herself for the umpteenth time. She'd explain to Mindfang that there are some things that exist beyond the scope of the law, purely because the law follows its own word to the letter and those who oppose it do not, but those explanations are all but worthless now. There's no explaining to be done, because nothing makes this current situation okay; Redglare simply has to accept it for being what it is. Has to accept the fact that Mindfang's descendant is sinking to her knees before her, and that she herself has been a willing participant in this from the very first moment.

     “No matter what you like to think, Marquise, you are not the most wanted troll on all of Alternia,” Redglare murmurs, head tilted back as Mindfang kisses across the line of her jaw, down her throat, up to her ear. Vriska's nails scrape against the top of her thigh-highs, and Redglare supposes that if there was ever a time to note the difference between Mindfang's mouth and her descendant's, this is it. With startling clarity, at that, as Vriska's tongue swipes against her. Redglare knows that not only is her fist still bundled in Vriska's hair, but she's actively pulling her towards her, too, but chooses to ignore this fact. 

     Mindfang's hands are at her waist, Vriska is working away diligently as per Mindfang's suggestion, and Terezi sounds very happy indeed, muffled noises catching in the back of her throat. And Redglare, she does absolutely nothing, just _sits_ there, aware that the three of them would probably be having more fun without her present. She lets out a small noise, somewhere between a gasp and a huff, but still doesn't do anything. Or, she _thinks_ she's not doing anything, until it occurs to her that she's been subconsciously rubbing at the base of Vriska's horn for a few moments now. The girl groans, and the sound reverberates all around her.

     With her breathing embarrassingly staggered, Mindfang suggests to Redglare that she lighten up a little, hands vanishing under her shirt in the same moment. Having done more than her fair share of scowling for the next sweep, Redglare doesn't take the bait, and simply hooks one leg over Vriska's back, doing all that she can to not overthink the situation. It's logical; or, rather, it _seems_ logical, with her eyes closed and feel of Vriska's tongue flickering between her legs drawing out all the heat from her the bottom of her stomach and sending it blazing through her every nerve. Her and Mindfang, Vriska and Terezi. All of this was inevitable, in a way, and there's no use in squandering an opportunity such as this one. If questioned, she can always claim to be more drunk than she truly is.

     She grips Mindfang's shoulder with her free hand, and it's alright that she's rocking her hips as she does, because she's doing so to a pattern. She's perfectly controlled, noises escaping her mouth notwithstanding, and in no way at the mercy of the situation. When Mindfang leans all the closer, slowly whispering all she knows about the culprit Redglare is after, hands covering Redglare's breasts in the same instant, she certainly doesn't buck up towards her and do something as disgraceful as _whimper_. Mindfang's hands are warm against her chest, and Redglare screws her eyes shut tightly, doing all she can to ignore the way her nails scrape lightly across her skin, ever so gently, before fingertips work against her nipples, because she needs to remember every word of what Mindfang tells her.

     Locations. Hideouts. Mindfang's fingers work harder with each statement that leaves her lips, and Vriska seems to be growing all the more comfortable in her current role. Organisation members. Upcoming targets and, oh, god, then Redglare can practically hear the ripple spread through Mindfang's voice and body alike as she suddenly buckles, and all talk of betraying a fellow criminal is replaced by _my god, darling, her tongue is as exquisite as yours_. Redglare groans, releases her hold on Vriska's horn, and then she's got both arms wrapped around Mindfang's shoulders and both legs around Vriska's, not even trying to hold back anymore. 

     She hates the way that Mindfang's hands move from her chest to her back, the way she holds her so tightly as everything falls apart. She tells Mindfang this much, and with a contented sigh, Mindfang returns the sentiment.

     They are a mess of limbs, the four of them; Redglare and Mindfang on the bench, Vriska still knelt on the floor, leaning over one of Redglare's legs to get at Mindfang, while Terezi is neither properly on the floor nor on Mindfang's lap. As she wills the rush of feeling to drain from her system, the first thought that comes to Redglare's mind is that they ought switch descendants soon, lest they return to their respective abodes with the wrong one.

     Taking a deep breath, Redglare parts her lips, and silently mouths everything that Mindfang's just told her. Should the information turn out to be of the solid sort, then she will stand by her end of the bargain: she will attend to cases that involve neither Mindfang nor the gamblignants for the next few perigees. 

     When she finally feels as if she has the strength in her legs to stand, Redglare gets to her feet, pulling Terezi up with her. She spends no more than a second or two rearranging her clothing, as if not wishing to acknowledge what just unfolded; she doesn't need to give Mindfang even more of a reason to be smug. Tone flat, Redglare informs Mindfang that she'll leave her to attend to the matter of the bill, and says absolutely nothing else upon departing. She walks with her head high, jaw set, not even flinching when Terezi sees fit to pull Vriska into a kiss before following on behind her.

     “Terezi,” Redglare says, once the tavern is far behind them. With a happy hum, Terezi almost trips over her own feet, and then makes a grab for one of Redglare's arms, steadying herself. She considers her words carefully. She _would_ like to tell her to stay away from Mindfang at all costs in the future, but once again, that would be acknowledging things. And so, with one hand grasping Terezi's elbow to keep her moving in a straight line, she eventually settles on, “You will be filing paperwork for the next perigee.” 

     Terezi throws her hands in the air, says that it's _discrimination against the blind_ , apparently, and spends the whole of the journey back to the courtblock claiming that it's not fair, and it certainly isn't just. After all, she did her part to help Redglare get the information, and she too should be allowed to reap the spoils of unorthodox justice.


End file.
